Simultaneity and the beauty of imperfection.

She took her t-shirt off
The color of her bra clasps
colored the room grey
I moved my eyes away

He took his slippers off
lay on his subtle paunch
got lost in the darkness
between himself and the bed

A long slender back 
rested on a dreamy waist
the valleys of the body and
the non-existent curves of chest

some traces of hair on his arm
brushed against mine while walking
nicotine, nicotine, caffeine, nicotine
scratches from the bed bugs last night

this poetry is going nowhere
getting entangled in the imagery
of those two people i met
who could never be mine

I imagine them in my existence
Playing with their toes, 
to be near the hills,
In the rains.

I, I want to play with their toes
Make love to them as we sleep
on a hammock, under the warm sun
just after the heavy downpour

creating rainbows without touching 
feeling the love without seeing
erasing the grey-ness around us
omitting the labels that surround us

My two friends. 

He said, She said

She said, "I will do it again."
He said, "It's pointless. It doesn't exist."

She said, "You should try believing in us. For once."
He said, "There is no us."

She said, "I will not fall for you."
He said, "You will get over it soon."

She said, "I like the lights dim."
He said, "Then how will I see the depths of your skin?"

She said, "Let me love you."
He said, "There you go. Again the same mistake."

She said, "Let me hug you. Let me wrap myself around you from behind. For a while."
He said, "You are clinging onto me again."

She said, "It makes me happy."
He said, "Get out of movies,
there is no happy ending in life."

She said, "I know better. I just need mine.
Not ours."
He said, "Don't drag me in your life."

She said, "Don't enter mine."
He said, "People change."

She said, "I have never met a coward like you before."
He said, "You killed the romance."

She said, "There was romance even in the way
the red colored bus arrived at the bus stand today.
Falling leaves took the attention away from the annoying
heat as the driver pressed the break and put the vehicle to a halt.
Time stood still.
The leaves fell happily in the invisible arms of the tar road.
I never felt that with you.
What do you know about romance anyway."

Don't forget how to Human.

PART ONE

don't do anything stupid.  just don't.
That's all I can hear my mind say to myself in my friend's (bhagwat's) voice every time I see an ex's unwanted, pity filled message in my inbox. Or every time I see his recent pic with the guy i'm a in corrosive relation with at the moment.
I say to myself that it's the retrograde perhaps, making me go through such emotions. But Swaroopa and Pragya made realize how i am falling in the same circle again. I have been watching two-three films daily to shrug that thought off from my mind.

On the morning of 26th january, I had just returned from breakfast. And I was going through a few posts on fb. I had still not switched off my fairy lights on the desk. The sun was bright but thanks to the suffocating room i have been put into, there wasn't a need to shut them off. I was sleep deprived and had to see off Piyali Aunty that afternoon. Suddenly a message showed up in my inbox, by a person who himself deleted me from his friend list, for his own spiritual reasons, said the most hurtful things to me one day post my birthday and consequently ruined my relations with people who meant a lot to me. Well, I don't care about his side of the story because mine never mattered.

this was the message:

hi shubhanshi

I recently attended a vipasana course

I feel it might be of help to you. 

Check it out if you want to whenever you can. 

The main center is in Igatpuri.

(the site address)

all the best

No need to reply. 

now later that night when I was over the trauma of going through this message, Mehul texted me saying 'usse bolo aap vipasana apne andar lelo'. 

I like it when your friends make issues like these feel trivial. And insignificant. Infact that day itself was quite an opener to me. 

I immediately read the message. for some reason went into a frenzy. Called Swaroopa. And cried. I had not cried for this entire time about this particular man. Either friends or my own self took care of me. Not to forget the cold waters of the swimming pool. But that morning I cried. I had not slept the entire night. I was writing my BA assignments. 6-7 hours at a stretch. If I got bored from one subject I switched to another and started finding the answers. I realized how fucked up the European History is. I felt how amazing drama is. I realized I have still two more subjects left to write and finish off. 

Swaroopa stated the obvious saying that he is a chut. Of course, the female genitalia is a LOT better than a fucked up confused horrible being who calls himself a human. And that I could come over to her house anytime and just vent myself out. Now that's one thing understandable. Staying in that dinghy room of my hostel wouldn't help me make myself feel better about anything. I had to meet Rudy and his mom at the station anyway. So I just packed everything and left for the night. Took a bus, reached the station and said bye to Piyali. She showered way to much love on me that day. I think if there is really any thing that matters to me is the love of my elders. Hope I never stop counting their blessings. I just fail to recognize the same from my own set of elders. 

I had a small chat with Rudy and took another bus to Kothrud. I swear those 2 bus rides were important to me. 

I felt good when Rudy told me how much his mom adores me. And the fact that I took time out to show her around camp, or help her buy books from the raddi shop and the sarees from the store. 

I think there isn't any greater gift than investing your time into someone you care for. My efforts seldom go unnoticed and mostly seen as obsessions. Hence it's a breather when I am acknowledged for my unconditional love to those who matter. 

By the time it was night. I was in a much better frame of mind. And I was amazed how I hadn't done anything stupid so far. Hadn't sent a stupid bitter cuss filled letter to a friend, had not slapped that bitch, who well of course, is a bitch. Did not tell loks about it and went mad on not seeing his reply on the matter.  I had just been into a retrospective mode all day long. throughout those journeys. From questioning myself as to why he sent me that message to what was the need to even mention 'no need to reply' in the end. It is all over. Why the fake concern. Nikki doesn't talk to me anymore. Why the fake concern. I did a pretty good job of picking myself up in the past few months, got my heartbroken twice and still I am alive like everyone else. And living happily too. I had deleted all our conversations. Blocked him to spare him the need to even write ' no need to reply' from that moment onwards. Fb is seriously a life complicator. 

Then I remembered one thing. And it changed my entire perspective about the life I lived with him so far. I was proud of that man. I am proud of him. 

I had a history in stammering as a kid. i somehow recovered with regular practice.
it was directly related to my ability of maintaining confidence in unexpected situations.
what followed was only moments of blank-outs in which not just speak abut i could not even process anything. And such phases used to take place for 30 seconds to1:30 minutes.
but It was never a problem
In my second sem i met 'him'. And i was blown away by is ability to speak publicly so well with a stutter. I think i fell for that. That was the pure reason i fell for him.
I fell for his disability which he could wear it on his sleeve so easily. Only i dint know that it wasn't really easy for him. After an year when i confessed my liking for him, he was taken aback.
We started spending more time together and it was like, if he had to say something and used to get stuck, i used to finish his sentences. Im sure he never noticed that though. I knew what his next word is going to be. Then another dark period came in which i started to know about his deepest fears and insecurities and slowly without realizing, his fears and all those insecurities, started to rub off on me.
I became more dependent on him. My moments of blank-outs returned.
The more intimate time i started to spend with him, the more i zoned out.
The more i started writing and stopped speaking in public.
I used to be silent when he used to be around. And the moment he used to be back in his room i used to flood him with my messages. I started hanging on to written words and clang to literature.  That started to frustrate him as well. He even told me once that he stutters with words, but if I continue doing this to myself, I will stutter my entire life with my thoughts.
Then i told him about my history,it was like a mental stutter i was going through in which i could not articulate nor process anything. And then we started to research on it together. Whatever new book or article he used to come across, he used to share that with me.
Those six hats and what not. I still have those pdfs man.

He used make me sit right next to him in the lab and make me read from page so and so to page so and so. He told me about how he has to join these couple of meditation practices to work on stutter and other therapies in bangalore. But he could not as that would mean missing out on college
He said he wont be able to work in the industry if he hasn't cured his stammer, as no one wants a stutterer on sets. And then one day he just told me that he is leaving college. In fact that too I predicted right at his face when he was about to tell me about it. And then he just left. We still remained in touch and his stammering increase. We were physically close than ever. Then whatever the shit happened next year. He started to do random photography jobs. Whatever the shit happened last year in 2014 and eventually we stopped talking.
he had come to college this year in Jan for a friend's shoot. He behaved very unprofessionally with me. it was so bad that i had to withdraw myself out from the shoot. I wasn't doing anything major anyway. Plus i had to work on my own edit Then post the shoot, he vanished for this course apparently. In which for ten days people dont speak and practice intense discipline.  

I was proud of him .
i just couldn't figure out why i was really doing it.
all this while in the bus
when its the only time i can think freely.
I realized, that power of love is always greater and much more bigger than the power of hatred. 

I have a feeling u won't agree with me. But then that is your take.
I could recover from him dumping me because I truly loved him.
The line which says, that u have to learn to let go the person u love, made sense to me at that very moment.
I don't even need to brag the same to hundred people here
even if he sent me the message for showing off, that's his level of maturity. And that's sad.
I would have still been proud of him hadn't he told me about it. And requested me not to reply.
If tomorrow he actually recovers from his problems, i will still be happy about it.
After blocking him he must have felt that i hate him or whatever, obviously i do.
But i love him beyond that.
I gave him whatever he wanted me to, and I always gave what I want to. All these months, i never tried to contact him. I practiced moving on.
I just know for sure now that he has no place in my life and neither do I have in his.
We were like mirrors and if you keep two mirrors in front of each other, there is only chaos.

Closures are not for real, but I am sure it was his way of doing it.

Bhagwat's Bday gift. 

Piyali's Byloom gift to me. 

PART TWO.

The same weekend. I met Kanu Bhagwat. A confident n cheery positive vibe wala person ( I always end up befriending the likes of those) who has some real good shit planned up for the future. 

We spoke about films and business and all things young. And of course, love. 

She mentioned no matter how many times we fail in love, it surely does end up building our character. Only if we let it happen to us. That horrible relationship you came out of? You must have learnt something from it. Even if it means that you were stupidly in love and made chai everyday for a person who you were mad crazy for, at least you perfected the art of making that cup of tea for that person. The prize is in subtracting the bitterness and see to it that you have one bonus life skill to yourself. If I can confidently take friends out to the city and make them and their parents enjoy the hidden gems of Pune today which is still alien to me, Is because of that douche bag who messaged me after so long and asked me not to reply to him. Our walks and rides through the streets haven't really gone to waste. They continue to still live in my experience of expertise in loving someone. Be it a person or a place or a feeling. 

Now I need to stop at this point. As I am in the middle of yet another phase, yet another corrosive and emotionally vicious cycle of happenings where I cannot decide whether to completely lay off from the situation or just go with the flow. 

And that is something which is not making me feel very happy. I had a resolution this year to just be selfish and stay happy. And as it is already Feb and the point where most of us break our resolutions, I see mine going down the mula-mutha river too. 

So maybe some other time and day of a different point in my life, I would like to complete this post. Hope I reach a decision. As I had told Pa last night, that there is no good or bad decision, but the lack of one is what creates the fuss. 

the last hello of 2015.

this post, and Im apologetic whole heartedly about it too, is indeed an unfathomable upsetting start to this year.
last night, was the night I finished the last season of breaking bad.
last entire night, I was worried about all my closed ones being destroyed in ways I could never have imagined in my filthiest of dreams.
last entire night, I kept on wishing how I should have been dead indeed the night of 29th January 2014, when I and Krithika met with an accident on the highway while coming back from Ishan's house. Trying to make it by 9 pm to college as per the curfew timings. We were at the speed of 20. A random alto overtook us from behind and further ahead rammed itself into a stationary sugarcane truck. Krithika tried to control the vehicle in order to save us but the car's behind hit the scooter and I lost my balance. Fell half an inch away from the divider flat on my back.
We both were in shock as she took me to the hospital. She was scrutinized by her mother for taking care of me. And the drama with the authority which followed later was enough to make me feel ashamed of my existence in this college.
Krithika held me responsible for the accident. That it was for me she came along. The medical visit i needed so bad.
It wasn't my fault. It wasn't our fault either. My father says mostly accidents happen because it is someone else's fault.
How I wish I was dead that night Krithika. I would have had nikhita still with me. Ishan would have realized his mistakes too. we would have never fallen apart.

In Osho's words, we all could have learnt from something extreme.


this morning, I got to know a former batchmate from college was in I.C.U. It was a case of drunk driving. He was declared dead by afternoon. Me, Rudy and Tambe were about to eat lunch. Our appetites were killed and the food was untouched for the next few minutes. we resumed eating.
It was the time for the void to settle in. It was a person whom we were not very close to, but the absence was unacceptable.

I don't know what exactly happened. I don't know what could have and could have not happened.
I remember buying a gift for him with swaroopa on her delhi visit trip. The discussions we had on about as to what he would like and not like.

I had heard how Pragya was upset about her fights with this guy who was so dear to him.
I had heard about what an amazing person he was.
I had heard and witnessed how Swaroopa made a bday card with a poem for him.
I had seen how this person was harmless to everyone around.

These were the people who started mattering to me even more.
The ones who are left behind.
Did I still wanted to be dead that night?

I don't know if he really managed to handle the vehicle and it was actually the truck's fault.
I don't know if they were hurrying back to college to make it through the 9:30 curfew timings.
I don't know if our dick college is going to put more restrictions on us. Clearly putting more restrictions has done no good to us anyway.

I don't know If this close friend of mine was right when he said that sadly our college people won't learn anything from this and continue to repeat such stupidity.
I don't know If us so called designers will continue to design posters for road safety and still be found seatbeltless and hundreds of bones crushed in unknown territories.
I don't know whose fault it was.

Why a girl has to be raped so that a thousand can start questioning female rights in the public.
Why an innocent friend, son, student has to lose his life so that a hundred others can learn a lesson from it.
Because at kaka's monica told me about the quote. That we learn from the extremes.

All I know is it wasn't my fault on 8:55 pm 29th January 2014.
All I know is that on thursday afternoon He said his first and last hello of this year and his life to me in his usual way outside college under the bright January winter sun.
All I know is that today when he left us, It wasn't his fault either. He had to leave.
Nothing more to say after this.

Love is the only true revolution

So Much has been happening. There is so much chaos even in stillness. And the never ending broke state of accounts and other monetary things.

home and Tipu during Diwali

Back to Working out after a month of weakness+diwali break(grilled cheese week)+filmshoot.

Can finally do lengths instead of breadths in the newly refilled swimming pool. Yes. The water looks blue and transparent now. Finally. It's not even two weeks since I have returned from home and the pace of things is just overwhelming. 
The rate at which I am recovering from major previous setbacks and discovering new and old music on dear youtube is just amazing. The feeling is similar to how a runner pushes himself each day by a few meters more to cross that marathon mark.

Even now. Im listening to a very old playlist of Sarah Vaughan songs for the first time and it is pure love. That is right after listening to Sajda from Kill Dill. Both aakash Gandhi and the feature film versions.

Saw an amazingly done video about beauty by being Indian dubbed in actress Divya Dutta's voice. It just reminded me of a friend whom I find truly beautiful. And by that I mean someone whose stories along with her marathi antics are something I am always in awe of.
Also. Chopped off some hair again. It is really badly done but I like the lightness on my head right now. 

Air block due to pesticide in the air.

I guess im ruining the visual language of my blog at the moment :-P

How running gets to you. How the ability to survive underwater gets to you. How admiring all good things and the capability to overcome jealousy and make peace with patience gets on to you as well.
Not happened to you yet? It will.

Last week on monday I ran. I ran in my college campus behind the boy's hostel towards the girl's hostel as the security ran after me. My left shoe was drenched in sewer waste. The guard could never get my name. Maybe he did later as the other two guys with me chickened out and gave into the so-called authority of a place which we students are only running. Our parent's money is running. To run away from the sight of people thinking you won't be able to make it to your room safely like a thief. And then you make it. Surprisingly you make it. And that gave me all the more reason to start swimming in the cold waters again. And hitting the boring gym again too. After all the fanfare of my film shoot, I finally cleaned my room. Unpacked. Made apricot scrub and chamomile footspa soap a part of my living regime.

Watched Fear and loathing in Las Vegas. And Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara again.
I want to do what makes me happy. Make films. And I am not confusing watching and enjoying Cinema with the art and toil of making cinema. I enjoy things and crew getting on my nerves while a shot has to be taken with all that frying pressure. Something I told Bhagwat when he made it to my college to act in my film.
And Cinema makes all of us happy. Or maybe most of us.
Two days back my dad called and asked "aur bataao, Mazaa aaraha hai fvd mein?" And I had to say Yes. I had never been so honest in my life. Ok wait, I have mostly been honest in my life but yeah regarding the decision of staying back in this shit hole of a place that is Loni, that reply was the first of it's kind.

Met a friend after some odd 15 months at Shishas and got winked and smiled at by Loy Mendoza during an incredible Jazz performance :-)

Saturday morning I had a call from this person at 7:30 in the morning saying how she wanted me to take a look at her script and give her some input. At first I heard she wanted to borrow my Canon 60 D again and I screamed WHAT? But then from there onwards she made it clear what she wanted exactly. I said okay and asked her to see me after breakfast.

Then I received a message from the same saying "I am sorry if this is uncomfortable. I know there are problems. But I trust your writing, so if you could take a read and dissect it very honestly. It might help"

To that I replied a very humble "It's cool."
And went to sleep again. I had slept at 4 am the night before due to a classmate's shoot. I woke up in the evening. And recalled the morning conversation. And prayed to God hoping it was all just a bad dream and I hadn't really received that call. But there it was. Log history and whatsapp history all intact. With those additional blue ticks.

First of all. That Mam was not doing me a favor by investing trust in my writing. Just like I wasn't doing anyone a favor by stooping down to other people's level in order to mend things.
I only mean well here for my writing and myself.
That Mam has certainly no idea what damage she has done to me and my surroundings and still showed the audacity to ask me for my assistance. A pretty brave attempt indeed. But it does not work that way. All this leading to an effortlessly created Chutzpah moment. Shit happens.
I realized how far I have come. And people are still struggling with their scripts. Not to mock anyone but this is how Karma rolls. And no I am not having any bouts of an egocentric mania. It is just that, it takes a lot when you try to rise from scratches. It takes months. For some of us it takes years. But eventually it happens.

Today pest control took place in the hostel building. The entire place was in fumes. I tried setting up my desk space as I have to start my edit soon. Make the real film now. I miss Kim.

fumes still persisting

lit my tea lamp to get rid off the diesel smell :-P

and then the air and lights changed :-)

the first thing Kim left behind. You and your family both stay with me on my desk.

Nathini from last year's Ganpathi by Minoo Aunty

some little place for Gurudutt and the other guys. 

the rosary and the frog. Again by Kim.

Again by Kim

this was sort of a birthday gift from last year :-P

Also, so much good stuff. From new songs of P.K. to a new release by Taylor Swift ( I sort of find that girl okay and nice), Im loving whatever the visual medium has been offering me recently. Now I realize why the worship Swift as the ultimate getting over breakup song Queen :-P 



And a few quotes by Jiddu Krishnamurti. His book which I have been reading is thoroughly enlightening. Goes with my mental state.  

USHA BOOK DEPOT

yellow tattered discarded pages

some from the 90's and some 

from my grandfather's time. 

One man's garbage is another 

man's treasure.

pink in morning light

and the fragrance next 

best after first rains

1709, Jaan Mohammad Street,

Camp, Pune. 

this is not a film review.

We were all waiting for it.
The last and the latest one from the Vishal Bhardwaj's production.
One of the very few creatives in India who can adapt Shakespeare without rendering the man helpless in his grave.
I wouldn't say that he could do so with much ease, as I am sure it takes a lot to bring words and philosophy  on screen of a 16th century playwright who is anyway too good to be alive.
I had seen Maqbool in sixth grade. I had seen Macbeth on stage in 12th grade. A production done by a Bangladeshi director with the then third year students of acting at National School of Drama. It left me sleepless for nights.
I had seen Omkara in eighth grade. I had watched Othello adapted in hindi, directed by my favorite director Ms. Tripurari Sharma in my first year of college again at NSD. And I wondered why the fuck someone like Saif got an award for the role of Iago. Our so called bollywood actors could never match up to what these guys from the theater world do. But that comparison has always been there. And it is so painful that unless you are a Naseer or Irrfan or Nawajuddin, you will end up getting ignored. Luckily like an academic brand placement, VB made Shahid mention the term National School of Drama in the film too. As if getting into NSD isn't a tough luck/task anyway.

Of course I am talking about Haider here.
I have never read Shakespeare in my life.  Maybe that part from Julius Caesar in our 11th standard text books where we have Marc Antony's speech.  That's all.

I have seen all VB productions. I have seen a lot of Shakespeare's stage adaptations in Delhi. I KNOW what these guys are really upto.

So that thursday morning when my excited friend Shivanee called me for a Haider first day show, I wasn't excited for the film. Mainly because of the cash crunch I was going through. And partly because that film was meant to be watched alone. Because Shakespeare is personal. Like a dirty little secret we keep under our winter wraps. And that is where it belongs. But common to all of us. That's why it can be still watched with a number of unknown people in a cinema hall. And noticing how Indian Cinema is traveling space, time and distance to stand on it's own feet, I had to watch it nevertheless.

I don't think I need to watch a stage adaptation of this one. Because it might blow me away and burst my 'cute love for everything Vishal Bharadwaj from makdee to matroo bubble' in a millisecond.
Just like that. I can never underestimate the power of Theater you know.
Alok you would know. I watched my last play with you at Prithvi.

So on saturday October 4th morning, my friend Alok posts this artwork called Chutzpah .
And Im like wut? who are these two people in the picture?
Then the very same day my another Internet/real life buddy Nitesh shares an MBP poster of Haider saying CHUTZPAH again.
AND im like hello there all the intellectuals out there, I don't know this word, this dictionary fails to explain the word, so what should I do next in this season of cash crunch now? I spent saturday buying old books with my mahila mandili in camp. Having a great time with Tanya, Swaroopa and Rucha. I failed to watch Haider again. So next day I go to Victory theater, Pune's almost oldest, and sit down to watch this film from the balcony side, surrounded by the ever so Disrespectful Pune crowd as an audience.
The best they could do was to buy tickets to a Gang Bang, I mean Im sorry, wait, Bang Bang in the other theater hall and have a good time there. But no. They had to take back some Shakespeare feels back home too.
Anyway.
So Im done watching the film.
And I have so much to say.
A friend was so disturbed after watching this film that he had nightmares.
My mother refrained from watching this film because she thought the lead actor would die. And she could not see Shahid Kapur out of all the people die. Not even in a film. Well she hasn't read the book herself so I couldn't blame her.

And I was just disappointed by seeing him not die in the film.
And that made VB and WS the winner of the game.

I wondered why the fuck VB took Kashmir as a backdrop. Shakespeare's tales are beyond time and space. They are not about people. They are not about places. They are about 'this mortal coil'.
They are about the psychology of this organ called the brain and this entity which is a cluster of nothing but thoughts, the human mind. Something which physically does not even exists.
He could have taken any region, any era, any dialect to show Hamlet in the Indian context. So why Kashmir. Is he mad? What the hell did he try to prove as a film maker.
Yes I had to read a lot about the Kashmir vivaad before writing this blog post.
Films are as much a political statement as they are a personal statement.
I read how VB visualized Kashmir as his Hamlet.

In the state of to be, or not to be. And this is the mortal coil. Dilemma.

Macbeth was Ambition. Othello was Doubt. And Hamlet happened to be Dilemma.
We all go through these three states. Not a single soul spared. Whether Im a kashmiri pandit or muslim, whether I am a woman or man. Whether I am rich or poor. Whether I am Nehru Or Jinnah. Whether I am you or me.
WE all go through this. And hence, Shakespeare is so beautiful.
By this time I had my questions resolved. But the writer fails if the dilemma which he presents in front of his audience gets resolved. And so Haider continues to live or die in his madness.
Madness is another dilemma too.
Never cured. Never resolved.
A lot of people say Macbeth is his greatest tragedy, but Hamlet in the disguise of Haider got me thinking thrice. Or maybe by now I have lost count. Will this mortal coil ever end?

I would rather be than not be.

I would rather work with Vishal Bharadwaj in this life or die soon so that I can be born as an animal in next life and spare myself all the dilemma the human mind faces.

Yes Nitesh, maybe animals do live in less fear because they live without words.

Now why I want to work with VB is because I will get best of both worlds. The perfect mix of theater and cinema. I hope there will be a time soon when Cinema will have it's own identity completely detached from theater. It's close to difficult but it will happen soon.
Now I have stopped analyzing films in term of photography and lighting and editing and all that jazz. We have come a long way that we can't afford to fuck with this medium on such levels. Those words are used mostly by people who seldom understand it. The only thing lured me into watching this film was that I am going through 'this mortal coil' just like a lot of those out there. You, you and you over there. All of you and all of us.
How as humans we are so complicated. And we all go through the same madness and pain. But we have the audacity to compare our miseries. No. Your misery is not greater than mine. And my misery is not greater than yours. So the dilemma and the madness goes on. And there you are feeling emotionally and mentally naked and robbed off of all your clothes and desires and belongings.
We hurt others but demand mercy for our own miseries.
And we are on repeat mode.

I also thought about a couple of stupid things. If you love someone, you let them go. If they are really yours they will come back to you.
Now this is me talking logic, practicality and sense.
Now me saying this for the Indian and Pakistan Government, with regards to our beloved Kashmir, will be me being extremely stupid, politically ignorant and worthy of a beheading or even more worse, worthy of a lifelong trial at the moment.
See. I agree. That's how cracked up we are.
But Im happy that a man made a film about this. Having an extremely questionable take on this.
Irrfan's four minute screen presence was great. But the editor and the sound designer has to be credited for making his entry so grand in the film, that the stupid crowd stopped for a while and hooted for him as if it really was some Khan or Kapoor or Bachchan. But that is National School of Drama right there for you bitches.
And those wonderful technicians.
I wouldn't say Tabu and Shahid outdid themselves as I believe both these actors have reached a level where no one else can outdo them. Not even themselves. Bharadwaj takes the credit here.

It will be nice If in India people will accept films as the director's medium. And theater as the actor's medium first and then the director's.

K.K. Menon. the ever so charming dude, had one great scene to himself and he was disappointing in that. He could have own the film with it. Now Im not mentioning which one.

The songs have become like a healing balm for me. VB himself being a phenomenal music director could not disappoint us. He has given romantics like me a reason to live again with his tracks and the revival of Faiz that along with his version I listened to the original Mehndi Hassan ghazal too.

The one scene I COULD relate to was Haider smashing one of the Salman's with all his might. I have always felt like doing that. And with the present situation of all the assholes in my life, I could empathize with that one shot of Haider killing the chap completely Krzysztof Kieslowski style.

Now again. Im stopping here. Watch the film If you are going through 'this mortal coil' too.
Yes I do have the habit of abruptly ending things cause it is time for breakfast now.

Here is the snapshot from Haider inspired by A short story on killing. A film by Kieslowski.

And I am sorry Alok If I have spoiled anything for you as you have not seen the film yet, I just read your comment regarding not seeing it on your blog :-P

too late.